


The Best Distractions

by warsfeil



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Muro-chin," Atsushi says, and his voice is low enough that Tatsuya would know exactly what it meant even if he couldn't see the look in his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> This is nothing but porn. Honestly, I should have just titled it "Dicks: The Dickening" and got it over with. Very, very briefly beta'd, but not much, and hahaha like I ever edit my own fic are you kidding ain't no one got time for that.

If there was one thing that Tatsuya had learned, it was that a considerable amount more went on in Atsushi's mind than most people gave him credit for. There were all the typical things that someone would imagine: snack foods, latest flavors, baking, where to get the snack foods that he wanted, the occasionally errant thought about basketball. That was what everyone expected of him.

Then there was the Atsushi that Tatsuya knew; the Atsushi that refused to watch _The Birds_ because too many birds made weird noises and the Atsushi that had a concrete plan for opening up his own bakery after University (if he even went, which Tatsuya knew he hadn't mentioned to his parents yet). 

There was also the Atsushi that was like _this_ : dark and overpowering and focused in a way that made Tatsuya's stomach roil with emotions. 

"Muro-chin," Atsushi says, and his voice is low enough that Tatsuya would know exactly what it meant even if he couldn't see the look in his eyes. 

"We need to go shopping today," Tatsuya says, a half-protest even as his hands slide up to curl around Atsushi's shoulders. Atsushi doesn't bother to respond with an argument; it'd be a waste of energy that he's clearly intending to channel in other directions. 

The kiss is hot and searing and has an intensity that Tatsuya has only ever felt from Atsushi in the middle of a basketball match, and that's why Tatsuya holds onto it. He kisses back, reflecting that it would be entirely his luck to move back to Japan and wind up with a boyfriend taller than him, winds up with a boyfriend that says he hates basketball and still manages to go further than Tatsuya could ever imagine. 

He holds onto Atsushi and holds onto Atsushi's focus, as rare and precious of a thing as it is. Errands can wait. Tatsuya gives up on the idea of protesting before it ever really asserts itself in his mind, electing instead to lean back, drag Atsushi with him by the shirt and be thankful that Tatsuya's parents are never at home. 

Atsushi kisses like he's intent on something, and Tatsuya thinks it makes sense. Atsushi doesn't like _losing_ , after all. He breaks the kiss off eventually, and Tatsuya can't help the way his chest heaves, the way he drags Atsushi closer and holds him there. Atsushi just moves his lips further down; mouths kisses across Tatsuya's neck and collarbone and bites the entire way, just hard enough to make Tatsuya hiss and digs his nails in. 

"Atsushi, that--" _hurts_ , Tatsuya almost says, but he doesn't get the chance before Atsushi sinks another bite down on Tatsuya's earlobe, hard and quick and Tatsuya can only break off into a groan. He tilts his head, then moves his hands down until he can reach the hem of Atsushi's shirt and start pulling it up. 

Atsushi makes a deep noise, half-irritation and half-arousal and throws the shirt off. He strips Tatsuya out of his, and Tatsuya slips further down on the bed. Atsushi towers over him even when they're standing, but like this, it lets Tatsuya conveniently palm Atsushi's erection, hand slipping over the bulge in his pants. 

Every noise that Atsushi makes, Tatsuya considers a personal achievement. This time, Atsushi lets his eyes fall half-closed, the look doing nothing to mask the intensity of his gaze. His hips buck against Tatsuya's hand. 

"Muro-chin," Atsushi says, and Tatsuya envies how easily he can keep his voice level. "Take off your pants."

Tatsuya laughs, and it's breathless even to his own ears. "You can't do it for me?"

Atsushi hums, letting his gaze roam down Tatsuya's body, and Tatsuya takes the invitation. He pulls his jeans down his hips, snagging his thumbs in his underwear and moving them down his body considerably more slowly than actually necessary. Atsushi's gaze flicks from Tatsuya's face down to his body and back up again, and if Tatsuya hadn't been hard before, he definitely was now, with the way Atsushi was looking at him. 

It's Tatsuya that surges forward, then; crashes up and presses his lips hard against Atsushi's and jerks their hips together. It isn't exactly comfortable against the fabric of Atsushi's pants, but it's still friction and still pressure, and Tatsuya breathes out at the sensation.

Kissing, Tatsuya's pretty sure, is something that people need to do a lot more of at all times. Especially with someone as good at it as Atsushi. Maybe there was merit to always snacking, because he kisses well enough that Tatsuya almost thinks he could come entirely from that. (He might try, someday; when he felt like it and thought he could keep Atsushi occupied long enough.)

Atsushi sits up, clearly gearing up to remove his pants, and Tatsuya follows him up. He wraps his arms back around Atsushi and redirects his attention -- the pants can wait. Atsushi paints an attractive picture like that, sitting up with no shirt and a tent in his pants that you could see from a mile away, and Tatsuya isn't quite done enjoying it yet. 

"Muro-chin," Atsushi says, and his voice would be petulant if not for the deep undercurrent in his voice and the look in his eyes. 

"Mmm," Tatsuya answers, and when he leans down to press kisses down Atsushi's neck, Atsushi winds one of his hands into Tatsuya's hair. He pulls hard enough that it could almost hurt, almost, but it's just a steady, forceful weight, instead. Tatsuya leaves a mark on Atsushi's chest in return, careful to leave it somewhere that wouldn't be on display the next time he put on a basketball uniform. 

Atsushi must like it when Tatsuya makes noise. It's a theory that's been playing around the edge of Tatsuya's consciousness for awhile now, because it seems like whenever Tatsuya makes a noise, Atsushi responds with kisses and touches and movement in all the right places. Today, they're home alone, and as loud as Tatsuya could possibly be, he doesn't think they could get loud enough to really disturb the neighbors -- so today, maybe he'll spoil Atsushi a little.

"Lay back down," Tatsuya says, and there's a glint in Atsushi's eyes, but he listens. He doesn't release his grip on Tatsuya's hair, but his arms are long enough that Tatsuya doesn't have to move much to make it comfortable. He slips his legs over Atsushi's hips, straddling him and shifting down against his cock. 

"I'll take your pants off for you," Tatsuya murmurs, leaning back down to brush the words against Atsushi's lips. "How does that sound?"

Atsushi responds by letting go of Tatsuya's hair with a final tug that makes Tatsuya arch up into the touch. 

"Aa," Atsushi responds. "Muro-chin should do that."

Tatsuya huffs out a quiet "lazy" as he moves back down Atsushi's body, trailing kisses as he goes and relishing the mild taste of Atsushi's skin. When he gets down far enough, he nips hard at Atsushi's hip bone and takes a second to steady himself when it gets a deep groan from Atsushi. 

He moves Atsushi's pants down far enough to tug his cock out. Even after all this time, he's still not quite used to seeing it -- it's perfectly in tune with Atsushi's proportions, but that means it's nearly unfathomably large, and it always makes Tatsuya stare for a few seconds. He recovers quickly enough this time; he has plans. He doesn't want to let the moment pass.

It's a sharp taste, when Tatsuya leans in and licks a stripe up his cock. Atsushi starts to thread his fingers back into Tatsuya's hair, but Tatsuya moves away before he can get a good grip. 

"Hold on," Tatsuya says, and Atsushi lets out a charmingly childish sulk. He probably shouldn't find it endearing, when Atsushi does that, but he can't help it. With his pants the way they are, they're trapping Atsushi's legs in place.

Tatsuya moves backwards, off Atsushi and towards the headboard. It takes a half second of groping around in the nightstand drawer before his fingers close on what he needs.

He tosses Atsushi the condom, smiling a little. "You can put that on, right?" he says, and there's a little delight at the way Atsushi's face drops into a scowl at that, crinkling all around the edges. He'll kiss that scowl off, but not just yet. Right now he needs to get lube on his fingers, cant his hips up and slide them up inside of himself. He wouldn't need this much preparation if it were anyone but Atsushi, but Atsushi is sizable enough that Tatsuya's found a little prep goes a long way. 

"Muro- _chin_ ," Atsushi says, and it's demanding and whining and Tatsuya can't help but laugh a little. Atsushi's got the condom on and his cock is standing as thick and tall as ever, so Tatsuya slides a third finger in, sinks down on his hand with a breathy noise and smiles.

"Almost ready," Tatsuya promises, and he can't quite keep the waver out of his voice. The wait must be too much for Atsushi, though, because he surges forward, wraps his arms around Tatsuya and lifts him up with a deep, irritated growl in his chest. 

Atsushi cascades against Tatsuya until there's nearly no point where their bodies aren't touching, and Tatsuya removes his hand, holds onto Atsushi's broad shoulders with both hands and all his strength. It takes that much to hold on when Atsushi is dragging teeth down Tatsuya's shoulder, irreverent and harsh like Tatsuya really is just another one of his snacks.

"Atsushi--" Tatsuya starts to say, and the word _wait_ is on the tip of his tongue, but Atsushi has a child's patience and no reason to stress himself. 

Atsushi lines himself up and presses into Tatsuya, and in this he's slow, purposefully and carefully. Tatsuya's nails close down on Atsushi's shoulders and he can't help the sharp, stuttering breath that Atsushi draws out of him as Tatsuya feels him entering. Tatsuya feels the same way that he always does, like he's being filled enough that he's going to break, split wide open under Atsushi's hands.

He tries to get out Atsushi's name, but it just comes out as a broken whine. It's nothing but a high keening noise, wordless and helpless, and when Atsushi finally sinks home, it's all Tatsuya can do to _breathe_. 

Once he's in, Atsushi stops for a second, and Tatsuya tries to take the few moments he needs to regroup. He doesn't manage it very well, muscles twitching and every tiny movement sending thrums of pleasure and feeling that he can't ignore long enough to grasp at coherency. 

"Muro-chin," Atsushi says, and his voice is much more controlled than the small, eager noises Tatsuya can manage. "I'm going to move." 

"Yeah," Tatsuya exhales, a little too quick and a little too breathless. "Yeah, Atsushi -- _yeah_." He cuts himself off before he can start begging, before he tacks on a _please_ to the end and gives into the urge to writhe on Atsushi's cock. It's almost unfair. He had almost had the advantage, and then -- 

Atsushi starts moving, and Tatsuya completely loses his ability to keep a train of thought. It's almost painful, at first, the way it always is, but even that is its own kind of pleasure, and it isn't long before every thrust that Atsushi makes is pure white-hot feeling shooting up his spine.

Tatsuya is beyond managing Atsushi's name. He manages little moans, little hitches every time Atsushi moves up, and he'd be embarrassed at how loud he is, if he had the presence of mind for it.

It's never long before Tatsuya is completely overwhelmed, and this time isn't much different. Atsushi's movements weren't very restrained even at the beginning, but now they get more and more wild, each one harsh and deep, and Tatsuya can't hold on. Every muscle in his body tightens and he teeters on the edge for almost too long, the need for release just out of his sight for long enough that he becomes frantic with the need for it.

"At-- fuck--" is all he manages before he comes and his attempts at words move into a loud, wordless moan. Tatsuya is only faintly aware of Atsushi as he keeps thrusting, and it takes long enough that it almost starts to get uncomfortable again before Atsushi lets out a long, satisfied groan.

Tatsuya lets his head fall onto Atsushi's shoulder, still breathing hard enough that it's like he almost just finished playing a basketball game. Atsushi's hand moves up and tangles into Tatsuya's hair, slowly stroking there as he leans back and drags Tatsuya with him. 

Atsushi's cock slides out, almost uncomfortable, and Tatsuya ignores the stickiness that he feels virtually everywhere in favor of laying on Atsushi and enjoying the rest of the afterglow. 

"We still need to go shopping," Tatsuya murmurs, but his heart isn't in it.

"Muro-chin," Atsushi says, and his tone is almost chastising. "We need to sleep and shower."

Tatsuya lets out a sigh that's more contented than exasperated, but it's all he can manage. "A short nap," he finally agrees, and he briefly considers setting an alarm on his phone before giving it up as a lost cause. Moving as far as where his phone was laying on the floor was entirely too much work right now. 

Atsushi, on the other hand, manages to produce a few pieces of candy out of nowhere, slowly crunching on them. The sound lulls Tatsuya to sleep.


End file.
